Ring of Fire
by JasmineWinston
Summary: One night, two boys investigate a supposed 'haunted house'. Only one returns. Now it is up to Sam and Dean to uncover and destroy the local-town horror-story, however, there may be more to it than at first seems.
1. Prologue

_**October 31, 2010. Longview, Texas**_

"Cory, come on." Shawn said, tugging on his friends sleeve. "It's not going to hurt you. Don't be a wuss."

Shawn and Cory were standing outside the old Stonebreaker's home, the moon glowing eerily on the charred remains of the upstairs floor. The brown grass swaying slightly in the cold night breeze. The dried leaves that still remained on the old willow tree in front of the porch rustled.

Cory stood there, arms crossed and a suspicious expression on his face. Shawn had been trying to convince him to go into the Stonebreakers' house, which he sensibly declined, and by looking at the house itself didn't regret doing so. However, despite his constant refusals, Shawn had still managed to drag Cory there, and now he was standing in front of the old house that held so many secrets and sparked so many rumors. Cory bit his lip nervously and glanced at his watch. It was five till midnight.

"Come on," Shawn was still tugging at Cory's sleeve, "you're being a baby. There's nothing there."

"If there's nothing there, what's the point of going in?" Cory snapped.

"Oh, dude. You're being a buzzkill. It's Halloween, and this is supposed to be scary."

"Can't we just go TP some guys house instead?"

"No." Shawn said with finality. Cory sighed, knowing it was no use arguing with Shawn. He had already been dragged out here in the cold, dead middle of the night. Who was it going to hurt, anyways? There was nothing in the house, contrary to popular belief. Ghosts don't exist, neither do demons or monsters. Cory knew that much, at least.

Cory untwisted his arms in defeat and waited for Shawn to go inside first. No matter how well he knew that ghosts didn't exist, there was no way Cory was going in first. Shawn gave a lopsided grin and nearly ran up the steps in excitement. Cory trailed behind him, dried leaves crunching beneath his feet. Shawn pushed open the door, it's hinges creaking loudly, revealing a gust of air colder than the wind outside.

The room was dark, despite the bright rays of moonlight casting over the floor, shadows colored the walls and floors a deep, endless black, giving Cory an idea of why no one had ever stayed here. The boys stepped inside, the room engulfing them into the darkness and adding their forms into the consistent shadows littering the room. The musky air smelled like dust and mold, stinging the boys noses. Shawn stepped further into the room, Cory trailing close behind. Cory decided to leave the door open in an attempt to bring more light into the shadowed room, but after he was ten feet from it, the door swung shut, making him jump.

"Shawn," Cory began, shivering slightly, "I think we should go." The shadows on the walls seemed to become deeper and darker, making the scene look twice as erie.

Shawn merely shook his head and grinned. "Why? We just came in. What should be so scary?"

Cory gave Shawn an incredulous look and glanced back at the door. "Well, first of all: The door just slammed itself. Second: Have you, just by chance, seen _how creepy this room is_?" Shawn looked back at Cory, amusement etched on his face.

"You're just scared." Shawn teased.

"As a matter of fact, I am," Cory snapped. "I want to leave."

"Fine. Go," Shawn said nonchalantly over his shoulder. Cory strode over to the door, jiggling the doorknob.

"It's locked." Cory started to panic slightly.

"Damnit, Cory," Shawn sighed, reluctantly walking back over to the door and jiggling the knob as well. The door remained shut, trapping the boys inside. Shawn glanced around the room hurriedly. He looked over at the shattered window, thinking of how it would make a great escape if things were to hit the fan. Truth was, Shawn did think there was something in this house, and deep down he was scared. People had said so many things about this house to him, and he believed them. Shawn turned around to look at Cory, who once again had his arms wrapped tightly around his torso, shaking, wide-open eyes fleeting around the room to discover anything suspicious or dangerous.

"I told you it was locked," Cory stuttered.

"You don't say," Shawn snapped back, annoyed. He took a step further into the room and stopped. Footsteps thumped above his head where everything was nearly burnt to a crisp. They were continuous and loud, like whoever was up there was making no effort to be cautious of falling through the charred floor. _Who would be up there, though?_ Shawn thought. There was the small possibility that he hadn't considered, which could be a cop. A lot of people might want to come here to beat the rumors about how no one who had come here ever came out, especially on Halloween. People like Shawn and Cory. _What would the police be doing on the inside, though? Why aren't they guarding the outside?_

Cory backed against the wall, breathing heavily and eyes round. "I-I don't want to be here, Shawn," he stuttered quickly. "I want to go home. Now." Shawn was shaken as well, but he was determined to go forward and take a risk. He doubted that there would be a cop up there, and the whole point of this trip was to see if any of those rumors were true. Shawn took another step forward.

"Come on," Shawn said, "let's go upstairs." Cory protested constantly while Shawn stepped up the staircase leading to the upstairs floor, the walls becoming blacker with every step. Cory sighed and bit his lip, hesitantly following Shawn up the charred staircase and down the hall. He stopped behind Shawn, who was frozen to the spot in a doorway and looking over the black and dusty remains of the room that used to be there.

"Shawn?" Cory asked, wondering why his friend was so eager to come up here, then to just stop now. "Shawn, what's wrong?"

"It's on fire," Shawn gasped. Cory looked around the room. Everything was black and burnt. Nothing was on fire.

"What?"

"The room's on fire!"

"Nothing's on fire, Shawn!" Cory was concerned now. "Look!" Cory ran into the room, trying to show his friend that the room wasn't burning anymore. "It's not on fire, Shawn! _See?_ I'm fine, aren't I?"

"You're on fire!" Shawn yelled. Cory knitted his eyebrows together in frustration, silently laughing at Shawn.

"I'm not on fire, man." Just as Cory said it, though, his arm started to feel hot, as if it were burning. He gasped in pain. Shawn yelled, watching his friend writhe in pain. Cory looked at his arm, still feeling as though it were on fire. There was no flames, but the sleeve began to singe, crawling up the cloth and leaving red marks along his arm. Cory let in a sharp intake of breath and ripped the singed cloth from his arm, tossing it on the floor where it simultaneously erupted into flames. He examined his red-streaked arm, where the burning sensation still remained, crawling up his back and down his legs, making him gasp and shudder in pain.

"Cory!" Shawn yelled, watching the flames engulf his friend. He ran into the room which, only to him, was illuminated by the crackling, orange flame. He stopped before Cory, who was groaning and shaking from the flames that he couldn't see. The intense pain and heat made Cory drop to his knees, clutching his face and screaming bloody murder. Flames engulfed every inch of Cory, his screams of agony and fear joining the deafening crackling of the fire.

Cory keeled over onto his back, skin charred and clothes smoldering. His colorless eyes were glazed and smokey. The flames that were rapidly climbing the walls ceased and disappeared. The room returned to it's original, burnt state, looking as though it had not been on fire only moments before. Shawn fell to his knees next to Cory, his cries of horror replaced by wet sobs of agony.

Shawn sat there for what seemed like forever, sobs racking his body as he stared at the blacked form of Cory. No matter how much he wanted to, he knew he couldn't sit there all night crying over his friend. Shawn stood up, giving Cory one last, long look before he ran out the door and down the stairs, stumbling hazardly on each step. He ripped open the now unlocked door and ran outside.

Running, Shawn reached the police station. He burst through the double-doors and grabbed the attention of every policeman in the vicinity. Shawn began to sway slightly. One of the policemen rushed over to his aid before he fell onto the tiles.

"What's wrong?" the policeman asked.

"He... My... C-Cory..." Shawn stuttered. "H-He's dead."

"Who's dead? What happened?"

"Cory... It's all my fault."


	2. Chapter One

_**November 4, 2010. Sioux Falls, South Carolina**_

"_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnia satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, et secta diabolica,_" Dean chanted, his father's journal balanced in his right hand as he stood before a young blonde girl tied to a chair. He was standing just outside the Devil's Trap painted on the ceiling at Bobby's that enclosed the possessed girl, who was writhing and shrieking in an attempt to break free.

"Let me go, you fucker!" she shouted, gnashing her teeth at Dean.

"_Ergo draco maledicte et sectio. Ergo draco maledicte et legio secta diabolica,_" Dean continued, eyes glued on the Demon as he chanted the exorcism. The Demon continued to scream in pain.

"I'll send you to Hell myself when I get out of here!" she hissed, glaring at Dean with her pitch black, glossy eyes.

"_Ut Ecclésiam tuam secúra tibi fácias servire libertáte, te rogámus, audi nos._" Dean stared at the Demon. "Looks like you're going there first," he said in a deep and dangerous, yet prideful voice. The girl's head began to thrash around, puffs of black smoke flying around her. Her neck snapped back and her head shot upwards, a stream of the black smoke erupting from her mouth. She went limp as the remainder of the smoke clouded under her feet, seeping through the floorboards.

Dean closed the journal and set it on a nearby table, rushing over to the girl. He lifted her chin with his finger, examining her face. Her eyes were closed, the freckles that dotted her face stood out against her sheet-white skin. Dean dug his fingers into her wrist, feeling for a pulse, letting go after a minute when he didn't feel anything. He stepped back away from her body, frowning.

"Damn," he said, walking into the next room. Sam was sitting at a table, eyes fixed on his laptop. He looked up at Dean who had pulled up a chair beside him.

"Is she ok?" Sam asked. Dean shook his head. Sam frowned and didn't respond, scrolling down the page.

"Hey, Dean," Sam said, breaking the silence, "read this." Dean leaned over and began to read the article on Sam's laptop.

**Local Boy Dies**

_Monday, Nov. 1, 2010_

LONGVIEW, TX. - Cory Sykes, 16, was found dead at the Stonebreakers' residence on October 31 due to spontaneous combustion.

Shawn Cooper, 15, told reporters he took Cory to the abandoned house that night in an attempt to scare him.

"We went inside, and the door shut itself. Cory wanted to leave, but then the door locked. Then we went upstairs and the room was burning, but he couldn't see the flames and he ran inside and caught on fire," said a reluctant Cooper. "I left and got the police. That's all I know."

No other witnesses were available for questioning and Cooper is being held as suspect.

"What the hell?" Dean said slowly, looking up at Sam.

"Spontaneous combustions don't just _happen_, Dean."

"Look up the," Dean scanned the article, "the Stonebreakers' house." Sam typed in the name and clicked on a link, reading the words that had appeared on the screen.

"They were a family in Longview, Texas," Sam read off the computer, scanning over the article. "It says that the wife, Monica, had suspected her husband of an affair and he set her bedroom on fire while she was sleeping, and then he committed suicide." Sam looked up at Dean. "I think that sounds like it might be a ghost." Dean read over the article about the Stonebreakers' and looked up to meet Sam's eyes.

"Didn't that Shawn kid say something about how the door closed and locked itself?" Dean asked, Sam nodding in response. "People don't burst into flames, do they?" Sam shook his head. "Then it looks like we have a ghost," Dean stated, leaning back in his chair.

"Should we check it out?" Sam asked. He stood up and peered into the room where the girl's body sat, a frown etched on his face.

"Yeah, sure," Dean responded.

"You couldn't save her?" Sam looked back at Dean, nodding in the direction of the girl. Dean shook his head.

"I would've if I could've, Sammy." Dean dragged Sam's laptop in front of him and typed something in on the search bar. Sam walked up behind Dean and looked at the screen.

"_Busty Asian Beau... _Damnit, Dean." Sam sighed. Dean shrugged and started to scroll down the page.


	3. Chapter Two

_**November 9th, 2010. Longview, Texas**_

The Impala tore down the road, music blaring out the open windows and exceeding the speed limit. Dean was nodding his head in tune with the music blasting out of the stereo, pounding the heels of his hands on the steering wheel. Sam's eyes were fixed on his laptop, scrolling down on the article that was lit up on the screen.

"Dean." Sam looked up from the screen, flicking off the stereo. Dean gave Sam a dangerous look and flipped it back on.

"Dean," Sam said louder and firmer, turning the stereo off again. Dean sighed and looked at Sam.

"_What_?" Dean hissed.

"I was reading more about the Stonebreakers'."

"So? Good for you!" Dean flipped the stereo on again. Sam turned it off.

"_So_, it says that after the fire, the house was haunted by Monica's spirit, and that no one had ever stayed the night there. Sounds stereotypical, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said dully. Sam glared at him before continuing.

"Apparently, she had _really_ loved him, like, _a lot._ When she found out that her husband was cheating on her, she was devastated, and I mean like Dallas-after-Johnny died devastated." Dean lifted his eyebrows in mock-surprise. "Are you even listening?"

"Barely," Dean said nonchalantly. Sam sighed and stayed silent as Dean turned the stereo back on.

"Wait," Sam said, eyes wide and as he was concentrating. Dean, who was rocking his head back and forth to his music, looked at Sam quizzically.

"What?" Dean hissed.

"Monica Stonebreaker was burned to ashes in the fire, right?" Dean nodded in response. "So, that's basically and equivalent to being cremated?" Dean nodded again. "Then there can't be a ghost if there's no bones, can there?"

"She could be attached to something," Dean said. "Look to see if there's anything that her husband gave her that she might've wanted to stay safe." Sam began to scroll down the page, scanning for anything that could be relevant.

"Here's something," Sam said after a minute. "_For their 10th anniversary, John, _I'm guessing that's her husband, _gave her a silver, engraved ring, bearing the words 'Forever'._"

Dean smirked. "Didn't last '_Forever_', though, did it?"

"Do you think the ring could be it?" Sam asked.

"Possibly," Dean said as he turned sharply onto the curb in front of the Stonebreakers' house.

The walkway was blocked off with police tape. Four policemen stood talking with each other behind it. Sam and Dean stepped out of the Impala and walked past the police tape. One of the four policemen stepped in front of them, eyebrows knitted together.

"Sorry, but you'll have to go. This is a crime scene, and we don't want any citizens to be hurt.

"We know," Dean said, pulling his fake FBI badge from his suit jacket, Sam doing the same, and showing it to the officer. He examined the badges for a brief moment, nodding in satisfaction.

"I'm Officer Parks."

"I'm Agent Barnett, and this is my partner, Agent Carter." Dean introduced Sam and himself, Sam nodded when Dean told Parks his fake name. "What happened, here?" Dean said sternly.

"Two kids came up here on Halloween, and one of them was burned alive. The kid who got out, Shawn, he told the policemen the kid who died just burst into flames. He is being held as a suspect." Parks informed. Dean looked at Sam when Parks was finished, nodding his head slightly.

"Would you mind if we spoke with the boy. Shawn, wasn't it? We'd like to ask him a few questions about that night," Sam asked.

Parks hesitated slightly. "Can I see your badges again?" Sam and Dean took their badges out again, flipping them open to show him. "Alright," Parks said after a minute of inspecting their badges once again, "you can see the kid. I can't see what harm it'd do."

"Thank you, officer," Sam said politely.

Parks strolled over to his car and got inside, Sam and Dean stepping into the Impala and followed him down the road, pulling into the police station. Sam stood outside the Impala. Dean walked around to stand next to him, tugging on his collar.

"Damn, it's hot out here," Dean complained, wiping the sheen of sweat from his brow.

"Quit your whining, Dean," Sam sighed, striding behind Parks into the station. Dean groaned and followed Sam inside.

A light over head flickered and flies buzzed loudly over an overflowing trash can in the corner. Dean grimaced as he ripped his foot from a sticky stain painted on the tiles.

"This dump need a serious clean-up," Dean whispered in Sam's ear.

"Right." Sam rolled his eyes.

"You can sit there." Officer Parks gestured to a group of chairs, each of which seemed to be drenched with it's own toxic substance.

"I think I'll stand," Dean said and grinned, Sam nodding in agreement. Parks shrugged and strolled into a separate room.

"This is just wrong," Dean groaned, kicking an empty cup to the side. "Aren't there health code violations, like, _everywhere_?" Dean looked at the ground, spotting a dark, purple stain. "_What is that_?"

Parks walked back in the room, and Sam elbowed Dean in the ribs to get his attention. Dean looked up at Parks, who was leading a wide-eyed Shawn into the room. Shawn was examining the room wildly, rubbing his sides and sporting red, bloodshot eyes.

"This is Shawn," Parks said. Shawn waved hurriedly, quickly replacing his hand in the tight knot his arms were wrapped in. Sam waved and Dean grinned, Shawn diverting his attention to the purple stain on the titles Dean had noticed earlier.

"You can take him back there." Parks gestured to a room on his right.

"Thank you." Sam said. Dean nodded, walking into the room. Sam walked over the Shawn, leading him into the room and followed in behind him.

The room was dark and damp, but nonetheless cleaner than the one Sam and Dean were in prior to this one. One of the few lightbulbs dimly illuminating the room was shattered. No one had ever seemed to bother replacing it, or even picking up the fragments of glass littering the floor. A faint dripping from the ceiling was creating a small puddle in the corner. The table carelessly centered in the middle of the room was dotted with stains and holes. A horrible scent coming from somewhere in the vents made Sam gag lightly.

"Like I said, this place need a serious clean-up." Dean scowled and sat down, only to bolt upright immediately. He looked at Sam ominously. "Don't sit down." Sam nodded in understanding. Cory leaned against the wall, eyes still wide and arms wrapped around his chest.

"Hi," Dean said to Shawn. "I'm Agent Barnett, and this is Agent Carter." Shawn nodded and continued his examination of the room.

"So, we're here to ask you a few questions about the night you went to the Stonebreakers'," Sam stated. Shawn nodded again. "You won't have to answer anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, alright?" Shawn looked up at Sam, flashing him a small grin. Sam grinned back and looked at Dean, who wasn't paying attention. Sam kicked Dean in the shin, unnoticed by Shawn, making Dean jump and dangerously glare at Sam. Shawn looked at Dean, then back at the ground, whispering something barely audible.

"Sorry, what?" Sam asked.

"They think I'm crazy," Shawn said, louder this time, but still a whisper.

"Who?" Dean asked.

"The police. Everyone, actually. They all think I killed Cory." Shawn was breathing heavily, now. "I didn't though. I swear I didn't."

"We believe you, Shawn," Sam reassured him. "Just tell us exactly what happened that night, then we'll leave, okay?" Shawn took in several deep breaths to calm himself.

"Okay," Shawn began, still inhaling deep breaths, "okay. Well, on Halloween, Cory's parents had dropped us off in front of this neighborhood. We told them we still wanted to go Trick-or-Treating. But we really just wanted to get out of our houses, but we didn't need someone to watch us. Cory and I were just walking around, and then I thought maybe we could go up to the old Stonebreakers' place. There was a local rumor going around that it was haunted and no one ever got out alive." Shawn coughed and continued, "Cory didn't like the idea, and he didn't want to go, but I dragged him there anyways.

"So there we were, in front of the house, and Cory and I went in. The door shut and locked itself, and we couldn't get out. Cory was panicking, and I heard footsteps on the upper floor, so I went upstairs. This is when it get's really weird, though. The room was on fire." Shawn paused, waiting for Sam and Dean to tell him he was crazy and they were done with him, but they didn't. They were watching Shawn with determination, waiting for him to continue.

"The room was on fire," Shawn repeated. "Cory came up after me, but he couldn't see the flames. Cory thought I was nuts, and he ran into the room, straight into the fire. He still couldn't see it, but he was on fire, too. He started realizing it, I guess, when he ripped of his sleeve, which was singeing up his arm. After that, he just _burst_ into flames, and," Shawn voice cracked, "and he died. I ran into the room after him, and the fire burnt out like it was never even there. It just disappeared. I ran out of the house, and I came here. The police went up to the house after that." Shawn looked up from the floor when he finished his story.

"Is that all?" Sam asked.

"No. When I was running out, I saw someone."

"Who?" Dean asked.

"I don't know," Shawn said. "It was a girl, and she was in the corner of the upstairs room. That's it."

Sam nodded and stood up. "Thank you, Shawn."

"You don't believe me, do you," Shawn piped up. It was a statement, not a question. "You think I'm crazy."

"No, trust us, Shawn," Dean said. "We believe you." Shawn looked up at Dean.

"How can you? The story is as crazy as it sounds. Why would you, of all people, believe me?"

Dean hesitated. "Let's just say that we've dealt with things much crazier than what you're saying," Sam answered for him. Dean nodded and walked out the door. Sam smiled. "Thank you for your cooperation." He walked out the door, leaving Shawn in the room by himself. Sam walked faster to catch up with Dean, who was already outside and unlocking the car. He waved goodbye to Officer Parks and left, striding up to the Impala.

"Glad to be out of there," Dean sighed, opening his door and ducking inside. Sam got in and looked at Dean.

"So when should we go check it out?" he asked.

"I don't know," Dean said, shoving the keys in the ignition. "The cops'll probably be there for a bit, checking it out. So maybe in a week or two." Sam nodded and stared out the window. Dean pulled out of the station and started driving towards their hotel.

"I just don't get one thing," Sam said, breaking the silence. Dean had already driven over halfway to the hotel before anyone had said anything.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Why couldn't that Cory kid see the flames when Shawn could?"

"Ghosts can do weird shit, Sammy."

"True, but..."

"Weird shit, Sammy. That's all it is. Weird shit," Dean interrupted in a firm tone. Sam pursed his lips together and pressed his head against the window, staying quiet for the rest of the trip.


	4. Chapter Three

_**November 20, 2010. Longview, Texas**_

It was over a week later, and Sam and Dean still hadn't gone to investigate the Stonebreakers' house. The police had still been searching the house, looking for any signs that showed Shawn or anyone had murdered Cory. So far, they were unsuccessful. However, there was no relevant evidence supporting Shawn's story either, so he was still being held as a suspect.

Dean was sprawled on his back across the bed in his and Sam's hotel room, AC/DC blasting from Sam's computer. Sam had left to see if the police had left the Stonebreakers' house yet in order for them to do their personal investigation. Dean was flipping through the pages of one of his old, battered copies of _Busty Asian Beauties_, a slight smirk glued to his face. The door slammed as Sam walked in, making Dean drop his magazine. Sam threw his hands over his ears as Dean's music bursted through his eardrums.

"_Damnit, Dean_!" Sam shouted, rushing over to the computer and shut off the music. Dean frowned and sat up, stretching his arms over his head.

"Hey, Sammy."

"What did I say about using my computer?"

"Are the cops gone, yet?"

Sam sighed. "Yeah. They're gone. I also went over to the police station and asked if they were done. They said that they searched everywhere, and there is no evidence that would prove Shawn did it. Or that anyone else did it. They're settling with a spontaneous combustion."

"Alright." Dean stood up. "Want to go check the place out?"

Sam groaned. "I just got back from there, though. Why couldn't you come earlier?"

"I had better things to do."

"Like what? Looking at topless Asians and listening to music?"

"Exactly," Dean said, grinning. Sam sighed and got up.

"Alright. Fine. Let's get it over with." Sam walked out of the room after Dean. The two of them stepped out of the hotel, bright sunlight beating down on their necks. They stepped into the Impala. Dean grinned lopsidedly.

"What are you so happy about?" Sam said.

"This case is going to be awesome."

"You think?" Dean nodded in response. Sam sighed. "We could get killed."

"We could always get killed," Dean said, his grin fading. "You're a buzzkill, Sammy."

"You're an original Miss. Sunshine," Sam said dully. Dean laughed as he pulled out of the hotel's parking lot and onto the highway.

ᏊᏱᏊ

Dean pulled the Impala on the curb of the Stonebreakers' house, killing the engine and stepping out. Sam opened his door and lifted himself out, looking up at the blackened upper floor. The mid-afternoon sunlight glistened on the black and grey ash littering the yard. The brown and overgrown grass rustled in the wind.

Dean popped open the trunk, piling EMF's and rocksalt guns in a bag that dangled off his shoulder.

"Come on," Dean commanded, stepping towards the door. Sam followed in step behind him to the front door. The door clicked and opened itself as Dean reached for the doorknob. He looked at Sam, who was standing behind him, and walked inside.

Dean stopped in the doorway, looking over the room. Everything was buried at least an inch in dust that blew around when the door swung open, making Sam and Dean cough. Shadows towered over Sam and Dean, giving the room a threatening and dangerous arua. Bright beams of sunlight illuminated the wooden floorboards, but the room still looked dark. Sam pushed past Dean into the room, examining it was well.

"This place isn't creepy at all," Dean said sarcastically. Sam cracked a grin, taking another step into the room. Dean pulled two rocksalt guns from the bag hanging from his shoulder and tossed one to Sam, who caught it and stowed it in his waistband. A cold gust of air brushed over the room.

"Whoa," Sam gasped. "Did you feel that?" Dean nodded and cocked his gun, placing his finger over the trigger. When Dean's gun clicked, the ceiling crashed, throwing Dean against the wall and Sam back several steps, crying out. Black ash floated up, painting the air a smokey grey. Sam coughed and looked up at the cave in.

Chunks of the blackened ceiling indented and shattered the floor beneath it. Charred furniture spilled out of the broken hole that was the ceiling only moments before, adding to the demolished debris. Cracked and splintered floorboard shot up. Crossing over would be a dangerous task.

Sam got up, a sharp pain erupting in his calf making him shout in pain. He looked down briefly to see blood dripping down his torn pant leg. He shut his eyes and limped over to the hill of ceiling, peering over the pile down at Dean, who was limp and doubled over against the wall. Sam groaned as the pain in his leg increased. He glanced down at his leg once again, examining the wound. A large, sharp chunk of wood protruded out of the back of his calf, blood dripping steadily from the cut. Sam gritted his teeth and fixed both hands on the block of wood, pulling it gently. He closed his eyes tight as the chunk loosened from his leg. Sam threw it to the side and looked at his leg. Blood was now gushing from it, and Sam began to feel dizzy. He ripped his sleeve from his shirt and wrapped it tightly around the wound, decreasing the flow of blood.

Sam sighed and stood up, swaying slightly, balancing himself on one of the fallen pillars that was buried in the pile of ceiling. He was breathing heavily, the room swaying beneath his feet. Sam looked back at Dean who was still a heap against the wall, then back at the room, which began to tilt. Sam tried to examine the room beyond all the tilting and swaying and saw the charred and dusty staircase at the far end of the room. He let go of the post, collapsing on his knees and let out an involuntary gasp, and was then immersed into darkness.


	5. Chapter Four

_**November 20, 2010. Longview, Texas**_

Sam woke up with a jolt, staring at the dusty, rotting floorboards in the Stonebreakers' house. He groaned, pushing himself up on his hands and stood up, looking around, and trying to remember what had happened. A dried pool of blood stained the floor next to where he was laying moments before, and a large, gaping hole in the ceiling created a pile of cluttered debris underneath it. His leg throbbed lightly, not painfully, but enough to let Sam know that he was injured. He limped over to the cluster of wood that split the room in two, seeing Dean sitting up on the other side of the room, rubbing his head.

"Dean?" Sam rasped. Dean looked up at Sam, smiling slightly.

"Hey, Sammy. Are you alright?" Dean asked, his voice gravelly. Sam nodded.

"Yeah. My leg hurts a little, though," Sam said, and Dean laughed a little.

"So does my head." Dean smirked. "Wait, I'm going to get over there. He stood up, swaying slightly, and began to make his way over to the debris.

"No," Sam warned. Dean stopped.

"Why?"

"It's not safe."

"So?"

"Just stay there, will you?" Sam ordered.

"Fine." Dean frowned. Sam smiled slightly, and began to stumble off towards the staircase, stepping up a few stairs.

A bloodcurdling scream pierced the air, making Sam freeze. Sam looked up, spotting the figure of a woman, dressed head to toe in black staring at him from the top to the staircase. She had long, matted brown hair that hung in her face and billowed behind her in a non existent wind. Sam backed down a few stairs, slowly retrieving his rocksalt gun from his waistband. Before he could level the gun, she disappeared. Sam stood there for a few moments, his gun balanced limply in his hand, staring fixedly on the top of the stairs. A cold breeze blew down his back, seeping into his spine and the back of his legs, making him shiver.

Sam shook the freezing feeling from his body and continued up the stairs. He reached the top of the staircase, seeing a long, dark hallway, the end of which was a dark, deep black. A large, gaping hole in the middle of the hall gave Sam a clear view of the floor below. Dean was peering up at him, sitting on a piece of rubble that jutted out of the pile.

"Everything okay, Sammy? It thought I heard something?" Dean asked, concerned.

"Yeah. Everything's fine, Dean," Sam answered, looking up the hall. "I'm going to go into the bedroom, okay? If you hear anything, don't try and come get me."

Dean protested, but Sam put his foot down, telling Dean to just stay. After several minutes of arguing over this, Dean hesitantly agreed to stay put. Sam smiled slightly and stepped up to the edge of the hole, balancing himself before continuing. He carefully placed one foot on the jagged and broken piece of wood that was still attached to the wall, skirting along the edge till he reached the end of the hole. Sam peered over the edge to look at Dean, who was watching Sam intently, praying he wouldn't fall.

"You okay?" Dean said. Sam nodded and took off down the hall, turning into the bedroom where the fire started. The walls were a fading grey, the floors were charred and looked fragile. Sam took a step into the room, and the burnt walls immediately burst into flames.

"Whoa!" Sam yelped as a flame singed his shoe, burning a hole through the thick material. "Shit."

ᏊᏱᏊ

"Sammy?" Dean called, hearing Sam yell. He shoved his foot into a crevice into the rubble and lifted himself over the top and jumping over to the other side. Dean smirked slightly thinking of how ridiculous Sam was to think it would be dangerous. He looked at his hands and his eyes widened at the sight of the gashes littering his skin, blood seeping through them, splintering wood jutting out in random places on his fingers. He ran his hands down his jeans, the blood leaving maroon tracks down his legs. Dean wrapped his hands in the hem of his shirt to staunch the flow of blood.

Dean smelled smoke and looked up, seeing nothing but the particles of debris flying through the partially clear air. The scent invaded the air, filling Dean's lungs and making him cough.

Dean rushed up the stairs and skidded to a halt in front of the gaping mouth of the hole in the middle of the hallway, covering his mouth and nose as the smell of smoke grew stronger. His eyes watered and his lungs felt as though they were on fire, filling with invisible smoke with every breath he took.

"Sammy?" Dean choked out and didn't get a response. He squinted his eyes to see down the dark hallway. He sighed in relief as Sam backed out of a room at the end of the hall.

ᏊᏱᏊ

Sam took a large step backwards from the room, pressing himself against the wall, breathing heavily in shock.

"Sammy?" A voice called from down the hall. Sam adverted his eyes from the fire to the source of the voice, seeing Dean's silhouette through the thick smoke.

"Dean," Sam called back, "go back downstairs! Now! It isn't safe!" Dean merely shrugged and pushed himself against the wall, cautiously edging himself over to Sam. Sam bit his lip and looked back into the burning room and then back at Dean. Dean reached Sam, brushing a bit of debris from his shoulder.

"That wasn't so bad," Dean said.

"You're bleeding," Sam gasped sharply, and Dean looked at his wounded hands.

"It's nothing," Dean said nonchalantly, dropping his hands to his side and looked into the room when Sam was staring attentively. "Why are you staring in the room? See Casper or something?" Dean laughed. Sam gave Dean an incredulous look, shaking his head and looking back at the room.

"It's on fire," Sam gasped, "don't you see it?" Dean smirked and looked at Sam, a quizzical expression on his face.

"The room isn't on fire, Sammy," he grinned.

Sam grimaced at Dean and looked back into the room. "Don't you feel the heat, or at least smell the smoke?" Dean stopped smiling, realizing for the first time how hot the hallway was. Sam coughed, and Dean nodded, looking at Sam. Sam remembered how Cory hadn't been able to see the fire that night, and that Shawn could. Clearly, the same situation was affecting Dean.

"Stay here," Sam ordered. "I'm going to find the ring." Before Dean could respond, though, Sam had already thrust himself into the room, stopping abruptly as a flame licked his jeans, singeing his legs.

"Sam!" Dean yelled. "Are you crazy? Get back here!" Sam leaped over the flames and landed on a small patch of floor that wasn't burning, stumbling slightly. His wounded leg began to throb intensely, making Sam gasp. He regained his balance and looked around at the room engulfed in flames in front of him. The sweltering heat made Sam sweat. His shirt began to stick to his chest.

Dean ran in after Sam, jumping back as the invisible inferno scorched his calf.

"Damn!" he yelped, his leg clasped in his hands as he backed away from the room. "Sam," he called after his brother, "get out of there!"

Sam ignored Dean and continued examining the room. He jumped over another flame that began to make it's way towards him, landing in a fire-free area next to a blackened dresser. Sam's eyes widened and he smiled, ripping a drawer from the dresser and shaking the miraculously unharmed contents from the wooden box. Clothes fell out of the drawer, landing on the floor and became immersed in flames. Sam balanced the drawer on the top of the dresser, taking another and shaking the contents onto the floor. A loud thud sounded as a red, velvet box crashed to the floor. Sam tossed the drawer into the flames and picked up the box, opening the soft lid to reveal a silver ring, glimmering in the glow of the fire.

Sam snapped the lid shut and bound over the flames again, collapsing when his injured leg gave in. He gasped in pain as his wound split open, blood rushing from the deep gash. A flame caught on his boot, spreading rapidly up his leg, burning his skin and making him yell.

"Dean!" he screeched, "Dean!" He heard Dean respond, but the words were incomprehensible with the constant, deafening roar of the fire. The flames began to burn away the calf of his jeans, marking his skin a dark red. He sat up and swatted at the growing flames, attempting to put them out. He managed to extinguish the flames eating away at his jeans and stood up, howling in pain when his out pressure on his injured leg.

Sam could just make out Dean's figure through the blaze, trying to break into the room without being burnt by the flames he couldn't see.

"Dean," Sam called, "stay there! I'm ok." He could see Dean back out of the room. He had his eyes trained on Sam, risking to burst through the flames at any moment if Sam got hurt. Sam leaped over the last patch of fire, collapsing into the hall, the red velvet box clasped tightly in his hand. He held the box out in front of him, smiling.

"I got it, Dean!" Sam looked up at Dean, who smirked and took the box from Sam's hand. He flipped the top up and examined the ring. Sam stood up, only to cringe and crash back to his knees from the pain in his leg. He took in a sharp breath and swore, pushing himself up against the wall. Dean took the ring from the box and handed it to Sam, who took it and gave Dean a puzzled looked.

"Gonna burn it or what?" Dean grinned. Sam looked down at the ring he held in his hand. He could feel the metal beginning to heat, but it wasn't burning itself. It was burning him, and Sam couldn't let go. Dean watched Sam, confused to why Sam was sitting there, ring in hand, pulling agonizing faces. Sam gasped as the ring began to burn through his flesh.

Dean groaned. "What's wrong, Sammy?" Sam didn't answer. Dean reached down and picked the ring from Sam's hand, but yelped and dropped the ring. Wide-eyed, Dean looked around the hallway frantically and saw the ring rolling towards the gaping hole in the middle of the floor. Dean lunged for it, but was too late. The ring fell through the hole and bounced onto the floor below. He gave a fleeting look at Sam, who was still planted in the middle of the floor clutching his hand. Dean could see a dark red circle branded in his palm.

Dean rushed down the staircase after the ring. He reached the bottom and scanned the room. A faint silver glimmer shined in the corner of the room. Dean smiled and rushed over in the direction of the shining ring. When Dean was within two feet of the it, an invisible force thrust him back against the wall and he crumpled on the floor as his head made contact with the rotted wood.

Dean looked up and fixed his eyes on the spot where he had been standing only moments before. Nothing was there. However, the ring was no longer resting in the corner like it had been, it was floating several feet from the ground. Dean sat up and watched as the ring soared higher and higher in the air.

A loud screech sounded from the other side of the room, and Dean twisted his head to see a woman standing by the staircase, fists clenched and teeth bared. Her disheveled brown hair twisted and blew around her shoulders. A long, black dress billowed around her thin ankles. She took a step forward. The woman disappeared, only to reappear seconds later a foot farther ahead of where she was standing. She flew at the spot where the ring was floating, knocking it out of the air. The ring bounced across the floor, rolling somewhere beyond Dean's vision. A loud shot boomed from the upstairs floor and she vanished. Dean looked up to see Sam leaning through the hole in the ceiling, his gun pointed at the spot where the woman had vanished.

Dean's eyes widened, breath ragged as he noticed the throbbing in his skull. "_That_ was Monica Stonebreaker's ghost?" Dean rasped. Sam nodded. "What a bitch." Sam gave a dull laugh and leaned back against the wall, vanishing from Dean's sight.

Dean stumbled to his feet, holding his head in his hands as he looked around for the ring. It was glistening in the middle of the room. He quickly walked over to the ring, bending down and lifting it from the floor. The blistering hot metal burnt Dean's fingertips, making his drop the ring once again. "Dammit," he groaned. Before the ring collided with the floor, it froze in midair, rising slowly in front of Dean's face. The ring flung itself across the room, rolling underneath a wardrobe set on the other end of the room. Dean rushed over to the wardrobe and tried to reach underneath it to retrieve the ring. His arm was too large to fit in the crack between the wardrobe and the floor, so Dean sat up, frowning. There was no way he was going to get the ring, and even if he did, he couldn't touch it. If he ever managed to touch it, or even get it out from under the wardrobe, whatever was screwing with his would toss it under something else, possibly even more difficult to retrieve the ring from. There was only one solution Dean could think of, and it was reckless, which meant Dean was up for it. He had to burn down the house. There were probably other options, but Dean liked this one.

Dean stood up and walked over to the large pile of rubble splitting the room in two. He looked over the large splinters of wood jutting out of the floor and spotted his bag across the room by the door, some of it's contents spilling onto the floor. Dean began to climb over the pile, but a sharp pain in his palms made him gasp in pain. He leapt off of the wood and examined his hands, realizing for the first time how bad his hands had been injured the first time he had climbed over the rubble. He knew it was bad before, but it was worse the more he looked at it. There were several blood-clotted cuts running down from his fingers to the heels of his palms and splinters were sticking out of his skin. He took in a sharp intake of breath as he attempted to pull one of the splinters out of his thumb, releasing a small flow of blood as it exited his skin. Dean pursed his lips and looked back up at the clutter of wood, examining it for any easier way of getting over. It all looked the same. Difficult, painful, and dangerous.

Dean sighed and fixed his foot back on a piece of wood, lifting himself up and trying to ignore the pain that spread through his hands. He continued to climb over, each time he used his hands to grasp something the more painful it became. Dean finally got over the pile, landing on his feet and holding his hands out in front of his face once again. The cuts had began to reopen themselves, small beads of blood running down his fingers. More splinters had added themselves to Dean's palms, increasing the pain. He tried to pull another splinter from his hand, gasping in pain since it was in the center of a newly-opened wound.

"Dean," Sam called, "you okay?"

"No, I am not okay," Dean snapped, showing a hand to Sam. Sam was leaning out of the hole again, a worried expression on his face.

"Told you not to climb over it," Sam stated.

"Smart-ass," Dean whispered to himself, turning his back on Sam and walking over to the bag. He knelt down and began to search through it.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked.

"Gonna set the house on fire," Dean said casually.

"_What_?" Sam gasped.

"Can you get down here?"

"I can try."

"Then do it," Dean instructed. "I'll help you over the wood, but we've gotta get out of here." Dean heard a shuffle and a gasp of pain coming from upstairs. He looked up, seeing Sam standing with his hands clasped around his leg as he tried to skirt his way to the other side of the hole. Dean kept a careful eye on Sam as he slowly reached to other end of the gap and made his way down the stairs. Sam limped over to the pile of wood and Dean stood up, walking there as well. Dean extended a splintered, bloody hand to Sam and he took it hesitantly, making Dean suck in a sharp intake of breath as Sam put pressure on the wounds. Eventually, Sam achieved climbing over the rubble, aided by Dean, and collapsed on the floor.

Dean walked back over to the bag and continued to rummage through it until he found what he needed. Dean dragged the tin can of gasoline he and his brother carried with them out of the bag. He stood up and sprayed the contents out onto the floor and over the pile, releasing as much gasoline as he could onto the rotting floorboards and walls. He chucked the can over the pile, hearing it thud and clank against the wall, some of the contents spilling out onto the floor. Dean picked up the bag full of their supplies and hung it over his shoulder.

Dean smirked and extended another hand to Sam. After helping Sam over the rubble, the pain began to numb Dean's hand. Sam took Dean's hand and lifted himself up, balancing himself on Dean's shoulder. Dean slid an arm underneath Sam's armpit and helped him out the door. Sam limped over to the Impala, resting his arms over the roof. A small sheen of sweat had accumulated on his brow.

Dean walked back up the steps of the porch, digging through his pocket and retrieving a small matchbox. He ripped a match out of the pack and scraped it along the side, igniting it. Dean tossed the flame through the open door and onto the gasoline soaked floor, the wood bursting into flames. He closed the door and ran back down the steps to stand next to Sam. Dean leaned against the Impala, arms crossed and a smirk spread across his face.

"Problem solved," Dean joked. Sam gave a quick smirk and looked up at the house, the bottom floor engulfed in flames.

"Think we should get out of here?" Sam asked, indicating that he wanted to leave.

"What, and miss the house burn?"

"I'd rather not get arrested today," Sam snapped.

Dean sighed, "Fine." He walked over to the driver's side of the Impala and stepped in. Dean put his hands on the wheel, grimacing in uncomfort as the splinters dug their way further into Dean's hand. "Hey, Sammy," Dean said as Sam got into the Impala, a painful look on his face as he lifted his leg through the door.

"Yeah?" Dean ripped Sam's other sleeve off and wrapped it around his hand, smiling.

"Thanks," Dean mocked cheerfully. Sam sneered at Dean.

"You're lucky I don't like this shirt," Sam growled.

"Oh, no! What would I do if you actually liked it?" Dean said sarcastically. "Kick my ass, Sammy?" Sam huffed and looked out the window, his arms crossed. He looked back at the house as Dean drove away, the flames burst through the windows and smoke billowed through the air. Dean drove faster, hitting the highway and racing down the road.

"What do you think that was?" Sam said. Dean shrugged.

"Couldn't see it, but it was an asshole."

"Might've been a poltergeist," Sam stated thoughtfully. He remembered how he had read about Monica Stonebreaker's husband had burned her in her sleep when she had discovered his affair. He had shot himself afterwards. "Maybe it was he husband?"

"Maybe," Dean said, thinking over the possibility. "He must've not liked her since he killed her. Cheated on her, too. Maybe he got caught there when he killed himself."

"Maybe," Sam said.

"Must've been a pretty angry dude, though, to do something as large scale as kill his wife. Poltergeists can't be human spirits, though."

"Actually, they can be, or at least they need to be something human-like" Sam stated. "Dad's journal said that you destroy them basically the same way you do a ghost - by salting and burning their remains."

"Okay, then it could've been her husband," Dean said. "What did it want with that ring, though. The poltergeist didn't want me to have it."

Sam thought for a minute. "Well," he said slowly, "maybe it didn't want you to destroy Monica. She was his wife, after all."

"He hated her. I mean seriously, first cheating on her, then killing her? Doesn't sound like a happy marriage."

"Well, maybe he wanted to destroy the ring himself? I don't know, Dean."

"Do you think we destroyed Monica and the poltergeist?"

"Monica, probably. We burned her ring, and unless she was attached to something else, then she should be gone," Sam said. "The poltergeist, I don't know. We didn't burn it's remains, and I don't think burning the entity itself would do much good." Dean pursed his lips and continued to drive.

"Man, I sure hope that Shawn kid gets off," Sam said after a minute.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Well, he didn't kill his friend. I doubt the cops will find anything to pin him for, so I hope he gets off." Dean nodded in agreement. "I feel bad for him, though," Sam continued. "I mean, his friend died, he's being held in jail for killing him. When he gets home, he's gonna have to deal with his parents. How old is he, like, 15?"

"The both of us went through worse when we were 15," Dean stated.

"He shouldn't have to go through that kind of shit, though. No matter how crappy of a life _we've_ had."

"I know," Dean sighed. "I feel bad for him, too, I guess." Dean pulled up to the hotel and parked. He jumped out and help Sam out, as well. Dean supported Sam from under his arms as they both limped into the hotel. They both dismissed the curious glances they received when they walked inside in their bloodied and beaten state.

Dean looked at a middle-aged man who had walked up to him and Sam and snapped, "What?" They both limped to their room and Dean set Sam on his bed. Dean sat on his own bed, unwrapping Sam's sleeve from his hand and tossed it back at Sam. "Thanks," Dean muttered. Sam didn't respond. Dean examined his hand, pulling at a particularly large splinter sticking out of his finger. Dean sighed and put his hand down, looking at Sam.

"Some case, huh?"

"Yeah, guess so," Sam groaned.

"You gonna be okay?" Dean asked sympathetically.

"Yeah," Sam said, sitting up and looking at his leg, removing the wrinkled sleeve from around the wound. Blood was dried up around a large hole in his leg. "Guess it'll be hard to walk for a bit, huh?" Sam chuckled glumly.

"Let me see it," Dean said, standing up and kneeling by Sam's leg. He inched his torn pants away from the wound to get a closer look. Several splinters were protruding from around the cut. "Shit," Dean groaned, "this looks bad."

"You think?" Sam asked worriedly. Dean nodded.

"I should probably get you to a hospital for that one."

"I've had worse," Sam protested.

"So have I, but I think you should see a doctor."

"Fine," Sam sighed, "but can we go in the morning? I'm tired."

"Okay," Dean said. "Just don't get up, okay?"

"Alright."

Dean straightened himself up and walked back to his bed, crumpling on the soft sheets. Sam had already fallen asleep. Dean could hear soft snores coming from his bed. Dean folded his hands, which had begun to go numb, behind his head and stared at the ceiling, thinking about what had happened that day until he fell asleep, too.


	6. Chapter Five

_**December 20, 2010. Sioux Falls, South Carolina.**_

**House Burnt Down**

_Wednesday, Nov. 10, 2010._

LONGVIEW, TX. - Yesterday, a Longview historical landmark was burnt down due to reasons unknown.

The Stonebreakers' home was the residence of a couple in 1930. The husband, John Stonebreaker, was accused of having an affair with his wife, Monica Stonebreaker. As a result, he burned Monica alive while she was sleeping and committed suicide not long after. Firemen were capable of extinguishing the fire before it spread to the rest of the house. Unfortunately, it was too late for Monica and John.

The house is not located near any current residents of Longview, and the fire was not reported until 4:00pm. Experts have concluded that the fire started around 3:30pm. No word yet on possible suspects.

Dean smirked, tossing the paper back on the table. Sam was sitting next to him, his leg encased in several layers of gauze. Sam hadn't been able to walk due to the wound in his leg, so the month before Dean had to drag Sam to the hospital. They had told the doctors that Sam had been trapped underneath a collapsed roof, which was truth enough. The doctors had fixed up Sam's wound, congratulating him on his luck since he had almost lost his leg. When the doctors revealed the news to Dean that Sam's leg may have needed to be amputated, his stomach dropped with fear and guilt. After Dean had helped Sam limp into the Impala, he drove them to Bobby's.

"Think we did a good job?" Dean asked. Currently, Sam was typing away on his laptop. He nodded curtly and continued clicking the keys. Dean leaned over and picked up the paper they had taken from Longview before he and Sam left, scanning over the article again. He looked up at Sam, then down at his wrapped leg. "Your leg feeling alright?" he asked, jerking a finger at Sam's leg.

Sam stopped typing and looked up at Dean, smiling. "Yeah, it feels fine," he said.

"Good." Sam nodded again and continued typing. Dean pursed his lips and stood up, noticing Sam's clear disapproval of starting a conversation. He walked into the next room, seeing Bobby glued in his wheelchair and pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed. Dean strode over to Bobby and grabbed a chair, twirling it around and riding it backwards.

"Hey, Bobby," Dean greeted.

"Hey, kid."

"What's up?"

"Nothing," Bobby sighed. "Just thinking." Dean clasped his hands together and dangled his arms off the back of the chair. "Any new on the Apocalypse?" Bobby asked. Dean shook his head. "When should Sam be better?"

"Doctor said he'd be fine in a month," Dean said.

"That was a month ago."

"Well, then Sam should be better. Hey, Sammy?"

"Yeah?" Sam called from the other room.

"Can you walk?"

"I don't know."

"Then try." Dean heard the scraps of Sam's chair on the floor and several thudding footsteps. Sam appeared in the doorway and looked at Dean.

"I can walk," Sam confirmed.

"Good," a deep, gravely voice said. Dean turned around. Castiel had appeared in the middle of the room, his trenchcoat swaying slightly and a serious look on his face.

"Where the hell have you been?" Dean growled.

"Not important," Cas said, making Dean scowl. "I have a lead on Lucifer."

"Yeah?" Sam limped over to Cas. "Where is he?"

"He is in Texas. Last I heard, he was looking for you, Sam."

Dean groaned. "We just got _back_ from Texas, Cas."

"I know," Cas said firmly, looking at Dean. "I believe he thinks you are there."

"So, what are we going to do?" Sam asked.

"I think we should go there. Try and stop him every chance we get. Sam, come here." Cas walked over to Dean and Sam followed. Cas placed two fingers on Dean's brow and he ducked, still scowling.

"No way," Dean growled. "You know I don't do that angel-travel stuff." Castiel sighed and lowered his fingers. "We're driving," Dean said firmly.

"Driving is slow, Dean," Cas hissed.

"I know," Dean snapped back, digging the keys to the Impala out of his pocket. "See ya Bobby," he said, waving to the disabled man. Bobby waved back and gave Dean a small smile, then wheeled off into the next room. Dean walked out of the house, Sam following behind him. Cas had already appeared by the Impala, opening the back door.

"Cas," Dean said, grabbing the angels attention, "you can ride up front."

"That's my spot," Sam protested.

"Stop being a baby, Sam. Sit in the back. Cas gets shotgun."

"I don't understand that reference," Cas said. Dean looked at him. "What is 'shotgun'?"

"Just sit in the front, Cas." Castiel opened the front door and sat inside. Sam huffed at Dean and got into the back. Dean stepped into the Impala and shoved the keys into the ignition, twisting them until the engine revved up.

Dean backed out onto the long, dusty road and drove off into the retreating sunlight.


End file.
